


Not Sure I Believe

by ohanotherday



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Oblivious, Pining, Semi-future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:38:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohanotherday/pseuds/ohanotherday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Excerpt: Stiles has never had an issue with his body image. At least not one that made him think he couldn’t date someone. Hell, he dated a lot of people, but he hadn’t really date-dated someone as in been someone’s boyfriend. College wasn’t really conducive to that, and neither was driving home every so often to help the pack fight off some mythical creature. So when he asked out Derek, he wasn’t all that surprised that Derek agreed. However, he couldn’t understand why the rest of the pack invited themselves to the date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Sure I Believe

Stiles has never had an issue with his body image. At least not one that made him think he couldn’t date someone. Hell, he dated a lot of people, but he hadn’t really date-dated someone as in been someone’s boyfriend. College wasn’t really conducive to that, and neither was driving home every so often to help the pack fight off some mythical creature. So when he asked out Derek, he wasn’t all that surprised that Derek agreed. However, he couldn’t understand why the rest of the pack invited themselves to the date.

The majority of the pack had migrated toward the Bay area. Some managed to get into UC Berkeley like Stiles, a few in San Francisco State University, and Lydia, who wasn’t even really part of the pack, attended Stanford. Stiles was definitely not bitter that she got into Stanford. Nope. He loved Berkeley. Loved the football team, loved the great bars nearby, loved everything about it. She could take her Palo Alto private school and… Stiles took a swig of beer. He definitely shouldn’t hate on her for getting accepted to a school when he wasn’t. He didn’t even really want to go there, but still, how did he not manage to at least get an acceptance letter?

Stiles looked around at the rest of the table. It wasn’t a group date scenario, but he just couldn’t understand what was going on. He definitely flirted a bunch with Derek, and he was sure Derek had been flirting back. Maybe Stiles should’ve clarified that this was a one-on-one thing unless… unless Derek didn’t realize this was a date? Stiles nearly spilled his drink when he thought over the night’s events. None of the pack members acted like they were intruding on a date, so when Derek mentioned it to them earlier in the week—because Stiles never did—they must have assumed it was just a get-together. Stiles groaned as he rested his head against the table. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should have known better than to think the super hot alpha werewolf would just agree to going on a date with him. Though really, Stiles was definitely a catch. He was totally cute. And even Lydia approved of his outfit choices on the few occasions when she saw him dress up.

“Are you alright?”

Stiles looked over his shoulder to see Derek resting a hand on his arm. “Uh, yeah.”

Derek quirked an eyebrow before frowning. “Maybe no more alcohol for you.”

“Hah, I don’t think so.” He chugged the rest of his beer before calling the waiter over to request another. If Derek didn’t realize this was a date, he was definitely going to get drunk off his ass. Maybe tomorrow he could fix this and let Derek know that this wasn’t supposed to be a “friends” situation. But with Erica, Isaac, and Boyd laughing away on the other side of the table, he couldn’t really bring this up now.

Derek went back to laughing at some joke Isaac made, but Stiles had to look away from that ball of sunshine. Apparently being an alpha to people in their early twenties was a lot less stressful than being an alpha to teenagers. Stiles couldn’t remember the last time he was rejected and felt this level of shittiness. When the waiter returned, he tilted his head as he placed the drink on the table. He had been in one of Stiles’ classes, and rather than talking to one of werewolves at his table, Stiles directed his attention to him when the waiter started talking.

“How do you think you did on the final?”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “I wrote it up and emailed it on time. But I don’t know if I made it long enough. Five to seven pages, right?” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Barely got to five before I gave up.”

The waiter, Brandon, smiled. “Same. I considered changing the margins, but I figured the TA would notice.”

Stiles nodded his head while he took a gulp of his beer. “I really don’t understand how they expect us to write more. Hopefully he grades favorably because we were concise.”

Brandon laughed as he patted Stiles on the shoulder. “Let’s hope so.” As Brandon walked away, Stiles wondered if he should’ve spent more time wanting a waiter who sometimes worked as a bartender as his boyfriend than wanting an alpha werewolf as his boyfriend. That might’ve been better. And Brandon wore pants just as tight as Derek, so… win-win right there.

Stiles turned back to find three pairs of eyes staring at him. Erica was the first to look away while Isaac lunged for his own drink. Boyd took a slower time to break eye contact with Stiles.

“What?”

Boyd merely shook his head before redirecting his attention to Derek. Stiles wondered if they were smelling his pheromones, but he definitely wasn’t any more aroused now than he was earlier when the pack stumbled into the bar mere seconds after he and Derek arrived. If anything, Stiles smelled like disappointment and shame.

Anyway, if any of the betas were giving him judgmental looks, they could go… judge themselves. Stiles could talk to anyone he felt like. Especially if the guy he was supposed to be on a date with didn’t even think this was a date. Derek probably thought this was some nice pack dinner. Whatever. Stiles took another gulp of beer. He really should’ve known better. This was something that they usually did, so why should Derek think it was anything special? When Stiles brought his glass up to his lips, he realized he drank it a lot faster than he had intended. However, Brandon was being exceptionally attentive and was already on his way to replacing it. Stiles was definitely going to be hating all these purchases by the end of the night, but right now, Brandon was his best friend. Although Scott would be upset if he heard that.

\---

By the time the pack filtered out of the bar, Stiles could barely walk. His apartment was only around the corner, so Derek offered to help. It would’ve been better if Boyd or someone else helped because it was awful leaning on Derek—stressful, to say the least. The way Derek held Stiles up with one arm slung around Stiles’ back made him want to puke. Stiles had packed on some muscle after high school and no longer weighed a measly 147 lbs, but Derek’s werewolf muscles were a hell of a lot better. And it just felt really nice. Did Derek even know what he was doing?

Derek maneuvered Stiles into a better position when they got to the door of Stiles’ apartment so he could unlock it. It wasn’t that much better though, as it left Stiles resting his head on Derek’s shoulder, breathing in all of those delightful fragrances.

“You smell good,” Stiles grumbled. “Stupid werewolf.”

“What?” Derek’s demeanor didn’t change, but he pulled back enough to encourage Stiles to go inside the apartment.

“You’re so stupid.” Stiles blinked a few times. “Or maybe I’m stupid. I shouldn’t have asked you on a date.”

Derek ignored Stiles’ confession as he opened the door. “You never asked me on a date.”

“No, see that’s where you’re wrong. This whole thing was supposed to be a date. But you,” Stiles pointed at Derek, “you don’t like me like that, so whatever.” He collapsed on the couch instead of heading toward his bed. “You don’t like me at all.” Stiles kicked off his shoes before grabbing one of the throw pillows. “You invite the whole pack minus Scott—also, rude—and then you buy everyone’s dinner. What’s up with that?”

Derek glared at the ground while Stiles continued fidgeting on the couch. “I didn’t invite them.”

“Right, right, so they just happened to show up?” Stiles pulled a blanket his roommate had left on the couch over him, wrapping himself up to shield himself from the cold. “Cool story, bro.”

Derek coughed, and Stiles glanced toward him. “If I remember correctly, you were flirting with the waiter.” Derek’s smile had an edge to it. “I didn’t know that was proper dating etiquette. I’ll remember for the next dates I get invited on.”

“I was talking to him and commiserating with him,” Stiles replied, flailing his hands as he continued. “Anyways, he was the waiter. We had an understanding: he brings me endless drinks, I get shitfaced because I was on the worst date ever.” Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face. “Not to mention the three cockblocks sitting at our table.”

Derek dropped Stiles’ keys onto the coffee table. “Well I’m not having sex with you to make you feel better.”

“Good,” Stiles laughed. “I don’t want you to.” Stiles hummed before covering his face with his hands. “Well I would want to eventually. But I wanted you to be my _boyfriend_. If I just wanted to get in your pants, I would’ve been a lot more direct.”

Stiles watched as Derek walked out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him. “I should’ve just left with Brandon,” Stiles muttered. He curled into himself, wondering why declarations of love didn’t happen as magically as they did on television.

\---

Stiles woke up to the sound of ringing in his ears. A little dizzy, he fished his phone out his pocket and answered it. “’Ello?” His mouth felt dry, and Stiles rolled off of the couch, groaning as he landed on the floor.

“What the hell were you doing last night?”

Stiles glanced down at the screen. The voice sounded familiar, even with all the shrieking, but it wasn’t until he saw that he was talking to Erica that he realized this wasn’t a trick question. He used the couch to help pick himself up. “I was, you know, with you guys,” he groaned.

“Oh really?” Erica pressed. “And here I thought you were on a date,” she growled. Stiles pulled the phone away from his ear. She sounded like she might actually try growling. Real growling. He moved the phone back to his ear.

“What?”

“Yeah, we thought you two were on a date, so we decided to tag along because Derek refused to believe us.” Stiles could hear her huffing. “And you were just blatantly flirting with that waiter!” Erica sounded ridiculously angry. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine her pulling her hair out.

Stiles needed water and an aspirin. “You’re not making any sense. What are you talking about?”

“You don’t make any sense!” Erica screamed, making Stiles cringe as he held the phone farther away. She was seriously losing it. “Don’t you like Derek?”

“Well sort of, but you guys were being the biggest cockblocks of all time.”

“No,” she huffed. “We were making sure Derek didn’t get the wrong idea.”

Stiles shuffled to the kitchen and turned on the sink faucet, drinking from that as he let his thoughts settle. “Let me get this straight. You thought we were on a date, so you decided to crash it to make sure we were.” He splashed some water on his face, narrowly avoiding his phone. “Wow, you guys are amazing at social events.” He ended the call before he started saying something worse. College had made him a little nicer, but Erica and the betas definitely deserved a thorough lecture of how and when to interfere with someone’s relationship. Erica might’ve tried to seduce Scott, and Scott might’ve made out with Lydia, and… Stiles frowned at the floor. He might’ve gotten over his crush on Lydia, but it still sucked thinking his best friend would do that. But oh yes, back on topic, his werewolf friends might’ve been excellent at the whole seduction/initiate a relationship, but unless it was for themselves, they were shit at being matchmakers. They all need to take a tutorial about how to be a proper wingman.

Stiles shook his head as he brought up his list of contacts. Scott was still the only one who he wanted to discuss this with. Scott always knew how to make a bad situation better, and if he couldn’t help, then maybe Allison could have some useful advice. Like how to track down some betas.

\---

The next time when Stiles tried to plan a date with Derek, he made it as explicit as possible that this was a date. Not a get-together, not a pack event, but a date. Between two people. Derek and  Stiles. Yes. Sure it was created through text message, but he needed it to be made as clear as possible. Stiles had sent so many following text messages with asterisks whenever he thought Derek might interpret something the wrong way. But when Derek agreed to the date, that was all that counted.

After his last final, Stiles arrived late to the bar. His date with Derek was still a week away and would take place in Beacon Hills, but the entire pack was at the bar already celebrating the start of winter vacation. The pack had been at the bar since four in the afternoon, but Stiles’ last final wasn’t over until ten. Scott greeted him first, and Stiles wondered just how much alcohol each of the werewolves had consumed in order to get drunk. Derek at least maintained an aura of sobriety, but every time he smiled, his eyes looked a little glazed. Stiles glanced around. Lydia definitely wasn’t here to get anyone drunk with wolfsbane, but he wasn’t so sure. The pack never got wasted like this.

Stiles wondered if there were hunters or something around, but Boyd looked like the good designated driver, sober and sticking close to Erica. If anything happened, Boyd would make sure they all got to safety. Stiles lined up a few shots. He would need to catch up to the rest of his friends.

\---

Stiles tripped over his laundry basket. He frowned at it as Derek pulled him to his feet. He definitely didn’t remember leaving the laundry basket there. And all the books were on Stiles’ bed. And papers and copies of old exams were everywhere. He groaned at the mess.

Derek had offered to help him back to his apartment again, and Derek patiently helped Stiles get into the bedroom, but as soon as Stiles saw the clothes, he sat down on the floor. Stiles’ vision was fuzzy as he started folding his clothes, but shit, he really needed to pack. He was driving home tomorrow morning and he couldn’t be stuck in traffic because he packed late.

“Stiles.” Derek tugged on his arm to pull him up.

“Whoa!” Stiles rolled down onto the floor, doing his best to turn himself into dead weight. “I need to pack. There is a lot of stuff. Clothes, shampoos, books.” He rubbed his head. “Lots of things to pack.”

“Okay,” Derek replied. He stood up and walked toward the door.

“No, no, no,” Stiles repeated. He clambered over and latched onto Derek, hugging him from behind as tight as possible. “Don’t go.” If he were sober, he wouldn’t dare do this, but drunk Stiles didn’t give a fuck. He pulled Derek toward his bed. “Sit down, sit down,” Stiles ordered. When Derek was sitting, Stiles smiled. “Good.” His smile didn’t waver as he began folding his clothes and packing his bags again.

“Stiles,” Derek groaned, “I need to go home.”

“Just stay, dude.” He was in the process of deciding whether he needed two hoodies or three when Derek stood up again.

“I have to go home.”

Stiles pushed off the floor, tripping over a bag. When Derek caught him, Stiles leaned forward, cupping Derek’s face as he kissed him. “Just stay here,” he ordered. When he finally pulled back, he pushed Derek onto the bed and went back to packing.

“Stiles, that wasn’t—I don’t think that was appropriate,” Derek sighed.

“Eh,” Stiles waved a hand. “I need help packing, and you’ll help me pack, right?” He tried his best pout on Derek, eyes widening to increase the effect. “Please? Plus I’m really good at making out.” Derek sighed, making Stiles abruptly sit up straight. “Oh, wait. Do you not want to make out?” He hadn’t considered that Derek would be against kissing.

Derek’s mouth turned downward. “No, the,” he waved his hand in front of his face, “kissing was fine.”

Stiles pushed off the floor. All this moving was really starting to get to him. He sat down, straddling Derek’s lap. “Good.” He ran his fingers along Derek’s jaw as he kissed him. He really enjoyed all that stubble. He also really, really liked making out with Derek. He sucked on Derek’s lip before pulling back. “So you’ll help me pack, yeah?”

Derek coughed before looking up. “Yeah,” he shrugged.

“Great!” Stiles pressed another kiss against Derek’s lips after he climbed off. “I don’t know which books I need.” He looked at his desk. “Maybe bestiaries, maybe not.” He scratched his head. “But whatever, you can help me figure that out.” Stiles kneeled down and sifted through his clean clothes.

Derek crouched down, sifting through the clothes Stiles already packed. He shook his head as he started taking stuff out and refolding it.

“Whoops, yeah, I’m not the best at packing,” Stiles explained, making a face before he leaned over and pressed a kiss against Derek’s cheek. “Thanks.”

Stiles kept packing his stuff, bringing Derek in for another makeout session every time he felt bad for practically holding him hostage. It was the least he could do for someone helping him. And it was how he always got his last almost!boyfriend to help him out when drunk. Kissing just made everything better.

\---

When Stiles woke up, he was warm and bundled nicely in his blankets. However, he was not expecting Derek to be snuggled under the blankets as well. Stiles scanned his memory, but he was pretty sure they didn’t have sex. He jolted out of bed anyway, relaxing when he realized he was still in his clothes from last night, then smiling when he noticed all his bags packed and his room clean.

After he turned back toward the bed, he noticed Derek staring at him. Stiles rearranged his clothes into some semblance of order. “Sorry about all the making out.” He closed his eyes when he realized how idiotic he must’ve looked last night. He practically threw himself on Derek. When he opened them, Derek was still staring. “I just really love making out. Drunk making out is my favorite thing, but you don’t have to—this doesn’t have to be anything more,” he quickly explained. If he couldn’t have Derek as a boyfriend, he at least didn’t want Derek thinking Stiles would push the issue. He wanted to. He really, really wanted to, but he had been drunk last night, and Derek must’ve been annoyed with all of Stiles’ antics.

Derek glared at Stiles. “So you do this often?”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Well I’ve drunk made out before, but I don’t do it _that_ often. It just happens enough that I know I like doing it.” He shrugged once before looking around for his cell phone. He hadn’t overslept, but he still needed to hurry and pick up Scott.

Derek glared at Stiles as he peeled the blankets off of him. “Sounds like you’ve had fun figuring out what you like best.”

“Well it took awhile,” Stiles scoffed, but he followed after Derek when he left the bedroom. “Hey, I didn’t get drunk with the intention of needing you to help me back to my apartment and then make out with you.” He braced a hand against the wall when Derek shoved his shoes and jacket on. He felt really shitty. And if anything, he felt like he was sort of victim blaming, though he wasn’t exactly a victim last night. Could’ve been. “I wasn’t trying to use you or anything,” he sighed.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Derek pushed past Stiles, opening the front door and walking away. Stiles nearly followed, but his phone started ringing. He let the door slam shut and went to answer the call. He had a hangover to get over and a car ride to endure. And on top of all that, Scott would be waiting for Stiles to pick him up, and he needed to hurry up and drive over there. Anyway, Derek was mostly sober whereas Stiles was the drunk one last night. If Derek didn’t want to make out with Stiles last night, he could’ve easily shoved him away and gone home.

\---

When Stiles explained the drunk making out to Scott, he seemed concerned at least, and though Stiles would’ve preferred to crawl in a hole, he still really liked Derek. Maybe Derek could occasionally visit that hole? Stiles kept shuddering at that thought the entire car ride home. Poor choice of words. Scott didn’t mention it, but Stiles had the sinking suspicion that his friend was well aware of the boner in Stiles' pants. But Stiles did need to talk to Derek. And not via text message. This deserved a face-to-face conversation that made all of Stiles’ intentions clear and took into consideration Derek’s feelings.

However, while in Beacon Hills, every time Stiles visited Derek to discuss the making out fiasco, it turned into more of a booty call than an actual discussion. Stiles wasn’t sure how that kept happening. Well he knew, since it wasn’t much of a surprise how everything always became a bit more physical, but why was that happening? Stiles had wanted to be in a real relationship, but he sort of felt like he was being reduced to some plaything. That thought made him feel like a whiny brat, but it wasn’t like he was asking for a billion dollars. He only wanted some nice relationship bullshit. Sure the physical things were great, but not knowing how they became fuck buddies was sort of weirding him out.

Honestly, the first time it happened, Stiles was certain that he was just a one-night stand. But after the second, third, seventh time, Stiles was sure he missed a memo somewhere.

On New Years’ eve, Stiles vowed he wouldn’t go over to Derek’s apartment no matter what happened. But then Stiles received a text from him. Begrudgingly, Stiles visited Derek’s apartment, but he swore this would be over by tonight. Obviously Derek had some issues, and Stiles wasn’t about to start the New Year with a weird sort of booty call relationship. If this was all Derek was offering, Stiles could find someone else to pine after. Or find someone he was less emotionally invested in to have meaningless sex with.

Stiles walked inside of the apartment, determined to end this once and for all. However, he wasn’t expecting the rest of the pack to be crammed inside. Apparently Derek invited everyone. He couldn’t easily end things with Derek when an audience was watching, but he supposed he could just ignore Derek altogether tonight. Just pretend nothing was wrong. Well, Stiles shrugged, more people to put between himself and the alpha.

Stiles shuffled around, nursing the same beer for a good hour. He refused to get shitfaced drunk like usual. His roommate liked to endlessly repeat “a drunken mind speaks a sober heart,” but Stiles wasn’t going to make any drunken confessions or mistakes tonight. He was going to stick to his plan and follow through, just like Scott and his decision to be a veterinarian. Just make a plan, and stick to it. Stiles sipped some more of his beer. Sticking to a decision like not jumping Derek was hard.

When Scott finally left Derek’s apartment to go to Lydia’s party and see Allison, Stiles tried his best to hang around Isaac. Erica was giving him weird looks, and he didn’t want to get yelled at here.

Stiles talked a bit with Boyd while Isaac broke out the videogames. He needed those videogames to keep him focused. And he needed to not make eye contact with Derek. Seriously, no eye contact. Stiles felt like an idiot looking at anything but the party host, but it helped him with not making any rash decisions. Like making out with Derek.

Stiles wondered if Erica could smell Stiles all over the apartment. That might explain why she was looking at him weirdly. He hoped she could only detect his presence and not his jizz. That would make for a creepy conversation. But detecting Stiles’ presence throughout the apartment would be a bad thing either way. He hoped she wouldn’t judge him for not actually dating Derek, but really, this wasn’t the worse thing he’s done.

At 11:55pm, Stiles rushed toward the bathroom. He needed to think about how he could get out of here and get out of here quick. If he had left with Scott, he would already be safe at Lydia’s house and far away from Derek. Maybe he could hide in here forever? It lacked reading material and food, but the rug on the floor looked really comfortable. And the bathroom got great WIFI signal. Before he could find something interesting on his phone, Erica pounded on the door, urging him out.

As soon as he was outside of the door, Isaac handed him a flute of champagne. Stiles started to laugh at it, but it must’ve been Erica’s idea of sophistication. She had been doing that a lot lately—acting sophisticated. He sort of missed all her super sexy outfits involving tight corsets, but her new look still suited her. And she was still a werewolf. She could easily destroy someone no matter what she was wearing. While Stiles chuckled over the thought of her crushing someone, Derek slipped an arm around his waist.

Stiles tensed as the countdown began on the TV. When Derek leaned in to kiss him, Stiles felt his heartbeat racing. Anyone else in the apartment might mistake all of the signs of his confusion for excitement, but he was terrified. As far as New Year kisses went, it was great, but he had no fucking idea what it meant.

Derek pulled away to prevent Isaac from lighting any firecrackers inside the apartment, but Stiles was left sort of disappointed and hurt because what the fuck was going on? Last time he checked, he was definitely not the hero of some tragic story that still managed to have a silver lining. Scott already called that. And Scott’s life looked pretty amazing right now. Stiles downed the rest of his champagne and walked away. Nobody stopped him as he left the apartment and drove to Lydia’s party. Everyone was too concerned about the safety hazards of firecrackers—or the safety hazards of annoying Derek by lighting firecrackers.

When Stiles got to the party, it was just starting. Most people were feeling a good buzz, and Stiles walked around until he found Allison and Danny. Allison pointed him toward Scott grabbing another beer in the kitchen, but Stiles sat down on the couch and waited. He needed some air before he started discussing how he didn’t know what the fuck was going on with his love life.

Danny eyed him warily. “Are you okay?”

“No!” Stiles shouted, grabbing the attention of a few passerbys. “I mean, I’m not okay.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I like this guy,” he paused. “I like this guy and I wanted a relationship.” Stiles shook his head. “I know, cheesy, but I did. And now I’m just some warm body in the middle of the night.” He threw his head back, annoyed with his own idiocy.

Danny looked entirely unwilling to continue this conversation, but he didn’t move from the couch. “Well, did you tell him you wanted a relationship with him?” Danny pressed.

“Yes!” Stiles threw his hands up in the air. “I did. So he’s being a total asshole, right? If he wants to get me in his bed, I’m going to agree because he’s really hot and I like that body, but I told him I wanted more than that.” He stopped there, side-eyeing Danny as he waited for some reaction. He wasn’t best friends with Danny, and Danny had no reason to wait and listen to Stiles’ sob stories. Stiles slouched on the couch, wondering why he hadn’t just waited for Scott to come back with the beers.

Danny rested his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right. He’s being an asshole.” He looked over where Scott was grabbing drinks. “Are you even drunk yet?”

“No,” Stiles whined.

“Give me your phone. And your keys,” Danny added. “I’m only doing this for you once. But only once. If you do this again with the same guy, you’re on your own.”

“Doing what?”

“Getting you drunk.” Danny rolled his eyes. “Alcohol isn’t the answer to everything. But tonight you might as well use it.” Danny gave both the phone and keys to Scott, who seemed a little puzzled but also a little happy. Allison tended to have that effect on Stiles’ best friend. Still, Scott must’ve been paying attention to Stiles and Danny’s conversation, because Scott came back with more beers than necessary before going off with Allison.

After the fifth drink, Stiles decided to look the gift horse in the mouth. “Why are you doing this?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Because I’ve dated a lot of douchebags,” he replied. “Like it feels like karma because you’re pretty sure you’ve done this to other people, but it isn’t really. It’s just another person using you.” After that, Stiles didn’t ask any more questions.

\---

In the morning, Stiles woke up on Lydia’s couch, neatly tucked in with his car keys and phone on a table nearby. Well, hopefully Danny didn’t let him get in any trouble. He remembered Scott offering to drive him home, but Stiles had been too out of it to listen to any voices of reason. He squinted as he realized his phone was repeatedly chiming. When he looked at the screen, there were ten missed calls, four of them from Derek, six from Erica.

Lydia padded through the living room, frowning at Stiles briefly. He wondered if there was something on him, but she just walked closer and handed him her orange juice before walking upstairs. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. That wasn’t strange at all, but then again this was her house and he was sleeping on her couch. He wondered how many times drunken people have even seen her in her pajamas. Stiles groaned as he felt how cold it was outside of his blanket, but he needed to leave before Lydia’s mom decided to make an appearance. That would definitely be awkward.

When Stiles finished the orange juice and headed out to his Jeep, he briefly considered stealing the blanket. But that wasn’t an option. He left it, and tried considering his actual options. Option one: talk to Derek with a horrible hangover. Option two: talk to Derek later that day. He liked the second option best, and drove home.

After he slept half the day, he steeled his nerves and drove to Derek’s apartment. He still hadn’t answered any of those calls, and he really didn’t want to. Stiles paused when he walked in front of Derek’s door. He could’ve gotten all those missed calls because of hunters or other supernatural threats. He pulled out his phone to call Scott, scrambling backward when the door opened to reveal Derek.

“Thank god you’re here,” Stiles coughed. He tried to tone down his happiness, but it was a miracle that no crazy supernatural things happened over the entire winter break. It was definitely a first.

Derek looked at Stiles unimpressed before raising an eyebrow. “Who else would be here?”

“Horrible things.” Stiles started to push into the door, barely escaping Derek’s glare. “So this,” he motioned between the two of them, “has gotten out of hand.” He collapsed on the nearest chair. “Every time I come over here to talk, I always end up naked and in that bed.” He looked up at Derek. “That’s not happening anymore. I know I said I wanted a relationship and I shouldn’t have made out with you, but I don’t want to be fuck buddies.”

Derek promptly shut the door, but he didn’t look any less confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Stiles’ eyes narrowed on Derek. “The sex? The lack of conversation? What part of ‘I don’t want to be fuck buddies’ don’t you understand?” He stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll still help your pack. It’s not like I won’t. It’s the most fascinating thing I do, and I don’t mind helping Scott.” Stiles scuffed his shoe on the tile. “But I am not going to be your fuck buddy.”

“You’re not,” Derek said flatly.

“I’m not,” Stiles nodded.

Derek crossed his hands over his chest. “Though I was under the impression that we were dating.”

Stiles’ face scrunched up as he tried to imagine how Derek got that idea. “When?” When, when, when had they started dating?

“Oh, two weeks ago, you came here and started talking. I asked if you wanted me to order food in, you agreed, we made out.” Derek nodded his head. “Nice first date,” he sassed.

Stiles froze as he stared at the floor. He had forgotten about asking Derek out on a date. He didn’t even realize that the first time he decided to discuss the making out incident coincided with their supposed actual first date without three betas crashing. Stiles exhaled. He was obviously at a loss for words. “So we,” Stiles licked his lips, “so you think we’re dating?”

“That was the impression I was under,” Derek deadpanned.

“Oh.” Stiles ran a hand through his hair. “Well I wasn’t.” He couldn’t tell if he was more embarrassed or disappointed. On the one hand, he was happy to find out he was dating Derek Hale. On the other, he should’ve been more aware of it. Maybe it was a sign. A sign that dating Derek would be an awful idea minus the great sex.

Derek brushed a hand over Stiles’ jaw. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles sighed. “I thought dating would involve more than physical things.” He pushed a hand against Derek’s chest. “Not that I’m saying I don’t appreciate all the physical things, but I sort of missed all that bantering and general conversation.” He shrugged once before collapsing back in the chair.

“Well,” Derek reasoned, “we can try that too.”

Stiles looked around the room as if searching for the catch. Well, this was a new year, an entirely new year. This was the perfect time to create new resolutions. “Okay,” Stiles agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song “Fool for Love” by Stefy. This fic was for my very good friend. I like to think that I am a wonderful person who will support all your dating adventures and give you awesome advice. However, after two weeks of listening about my friend’s turmoil with her crush and every single step of her pursuit of a relationship, I turned her fucked up love life into a fanfic, showed her snippets, and she panicked that I was stalking her. She hasn’t actually resolved her dating fiasco, but I really hope it all works out.


End file.
